"No one's ever—" I couldn't finish the sentence. "This is the most romantic thing anyone's ever done for me."
"I’m happy to be your first." He kept his arms around me. "Because I'm not done yet."
"There's more?"
"A lot more." He gestured to the table. "First, breakfast. But look—there's something else for you."
I noticed it then, draped over one of the chairs. A lounge set in soft cotton, a matching hoodie and pants in a dove gray that looked impossibly comfortable.
"For after," Dez explained. "But first, let's eat."
As if on cue, a man in chef's whites appeared from the kitchen carrying covered dishes. He set them on the table with professional efficiency, gave Dez a small nod, and disappeared again.
Dez pulled out a chair for me, and I sat, still trying to process everything. He uncovered the dishes, revealing French toast that was perfectly golden, topped with fresh berries and powdered sugar, with a carafe of warm syrup on the side.
"This is—" I looked up at him. "Dez, this is too much."
"Nothing is too much for you." He sat across from me, his gray eyes intense. "Eat. Then we'll move on to the next part."
"What's the next part?"
His smile was mysterious. "You'll see."
We ate in comfortable silence, and the French toast was possibly the best thing I'd ever tasted. While we ate, I opened the card.
Inside, in Dez's bold handwriting…
Angelina,
Last night you asked me to be open to love if it happens. I couldn't answer you then because I was scared. But I've been thinking about what you said about love being kindness to your person. About choosing someone despite their flaws. About being brave enough to let it happen.
I don't know if I can promise you love. But I can promise you this: I will try. I will be open to whatever develops between us. I will choose you, every day, even when it's hard. Especially then.
You deserve someone who really sees you and chooses you anyway. I want to be that person.
Happy Valentine's Day.
- Dez
Tears spilled over, running down my cheeks before I could stop them.
"Hey." Dez was around the table in seconds, kneeling beside my chair. "Talk to me. Good tears or bad tears?"
"Good," I managed. "Really, really good."
He wiped my tears with his thumbs, his touch gentle. "Then why are you crying?"
I took a shaky breath. "Because this is everything I didn't know I wanted. Everything I was afraid to hope for."
"Then I'm doing it right." He kissed my forehead. "Come on. Finish eating. I have one more surprise before dinner."
"One more? Dez, you've already?—"
"Eat," he commanded gently. "You're going to need your energy."
I obeyed, my mind spinning with possibilities.
What else could he possibly have planned?
